Black Coffee Mondays
by 14CookiesGone
Summary: AU in which Sam is a lawyer who passes by a coffee shop on his way to work, which has an interesting specials board outside.
1. Chapter 1

_So like, hey! I'm testing this idea out because I saw a post like it on tumblr and I just had to take the idea and expand on it an make it into my own little ficlet. I'm not exactly sure how long this is going to end up, but at the minute I'm thinking maybe a two or three shot. But, let me know what you think, and whether or not you guys think I should continue! Also, work on LMSHYB has not stopped, it's just slowed. I've hit a bit of a block because I don't necessarily want to finish it, but I know it needs rounding off and I hate that stage in my work so I've been neglecting it in favour of this, but don't fear, I'm semi back on track. _

* * *

Sam hated Mondays. For as long as he could remember, his brother Dean had said that Sam behaved like the devil on Monday mornings. It wasn't only due to the fact that he had to go back to work after a restful weekend, it was also because he was probably one of the most anti-social people that he had ever known. And that was saying something considering Dean's best friend was a bottle of something alcoholic, and his favourite hobby was to tinker with his beloved car. But Sam was only different in the respect that he had a different job. Unfortunately for him, it meant an early morning commute into the office, which he never particularly enjoyed, but Monday's were always the worst. It was down to the fact that there were working mothers exchanging stories of how wonderful their child had been at some type of sport or musical performance over the weekend; young businessmen boasting to anyone who would listen, or anyone who could hear, willingly or not, about how many girls they scored with when out in the clubs. Or else it was school kids bursting with news about god knows what. Every morning was loud, but Monday's were always the worst. Sm was usually able to block out the noise, but he had been up late the previous evening helping Dean fix an intricate bit on the engine to his car, and he had simply lost track of time. So Sam's mood was foul, owing to the fact that he was yet to have any caffeine in his system, and that he was unable to block out the shrill laughter of the small brunette pre-teen who was chatting animatedly to someone on the other side of her. Sam sighed and closed his eyes. Luckily he was getting off at the next stop, and there was a small coffee shop on the way to his office. It was just a case of getting there.

Although he didn't often frequent the coffee shop, Sam always read the noticeboard outside as he passed. Sometimes it listed the days specials underneath the name of the serving barista, sometimes the weather, and sometimes a film quote. It was never the same in the evening as it was in the morning, and Sam found that it often brightened his mood to read something funny on the sign as he passed. That morning, the sign read:

_'Today your barista is Castiel. For your drink today, I recommend that you also purchase an umbrella. It's going to rain later.'_

Sam's lips twitched in a half smile as he pushed open the door of the small café.

"Do you even sell umbrellas?" Sam asked as he stepped up to the counter before placing his order. The dark haired barista laughed before turning to the espresso machine.

"Sorry, we just sold out. But you should be okay, it's not meant to rain outside of office hours." Castiel, as his name badge read, raked his eyes up and down Sam's suit clad body none too subtly, and looked thoughtful for a moment. "Though a bit of rain could probably brighten up that suit a little." Sam could feel himself blushing slightly, though it wasn't something that usually happened in the presence of another man. "I mean, you look like you're headed off to a funeral, not the office." Sam released a small chuckle.

"How do you know I'm not?" he asked, watching the sure movements of Castiel's hands as he fixed Sam's drink in a to go cup.

"You walk past this shop every business day, morning and evening. Occasionally you stop in, but most of the time you just read the sign and carry on walking. You tend to wear a black suit on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and a navy pinstripe on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Your tie is always toned to the colour of shirt you are wearing, and you wear odd socks without fail. We in here notice things about people, and I have an exceptional memory," Castiel explained, almost all in one breath. "You're dressed for a Monday meeting, which you'll probably now be running late to prepare for." Castiel held the styrofoam cup out to Sam, who was still in shock about how much the barista seemed to know about him, before he glanced at the clock on the wall.

"You're right," he began. "About everything. I'm going to be so late." he placed a handful of coins in the tips jar on the counter, sending Castiel a quick smile, before hurrying out of the shop on his way to work.

The shrill ringing of his desk phone caused Sam to jump, considering the fact that he had almost been asleep. The files he had been attempting to read were, in his opinion, very boring, and he was struggling to keep his mind on his work. Blinking a few times in an attempt to wake up, he picked up the receiver.

"Caine and Winchester," he said automatically. He was so used to answering the office phone in that manner that he had occasionally answered his mobile in the same way, much to Dean's delight. "Sam Winchester speaking."

"Hello Mr Winchester. I'm calling to see how you are progressing with my case. I hadn't heard from you, and you'd promised to call and inform me before the weekend. I hope you've not run into any difficulties." Sam quickly scanned his planner from the previous week, before groaning inwardly and leaning back in his chair.

"I'm sorry Mrs Friar, but I'm afraid that your case isn't as open and shut as you first led me to believe. There has been strong opposition from your husbands lawyers about custody of your son, and I am awaiting a reply from them this morning. I was going to call you after their call had come through." Sam rubbed his eyes as he spoke. He hated divorces. There was always an underlying custody issue, whether it was over children or material possessions, _something_ always came up. Even if it was a simpler case of a wife escaping an abusive husband, there was a dispute over the car, or the house. In all the years Sam had been working as a lawyer, there had never been such a thing as an open and shit case. But he lived in hope.

"What do you mean?" Mrs Friar sounded incredulous, and Sam grimaced, holding the receiver away form his ear, anticipating an onslaught of emotion from his client. "How can they have any opposition over custody of Liam? Surely a child should be with his mother. I have done nothing but care for the boy, whereas Brian only seemed to take an interest when poor Liam was old enough to keep up and play soccer, or go fishing, or catch a ball." Sam rolled his eyes, fighting to keep his professional head on.

"I'm sure that's true, Mrs Friar, but to claim sole custody f an eleven year old, allowing no contact from Mr Friar is what is causing the problem. Perhaps if you were to negotiate some form of shared custody...?" The rest of what Sam was trying to say was drowned out as Mrs Friar interrupted him.

"And allow my son to be under the same roof as his neglectful father and that... that... woman?! Not a chance."

"But Mrs Friar, you also have to take into account your son's own wishes," Sam stated, trying a different tact, trying to get Mrs Friar to see a different angle. It was fruitless.

"He doesn't know what he wants. Liam merely wishes to see his father because he doesn't know any better. And anyway, I'm his mother, and therefore better equipped to look after him than his father and that trollop that he's shacked up with." Sighing inwardly, Sam tried once more to reason with Mrs Friar.

"Mr Friar is offering, through contact with his lawyers, that he sees Liam at weekends and in part of the school holidays. Couldn't you allow your decision to be swayed in that stead? It's only a proposed 150 days a year."

"150 days too many," Mrs Friar replied angrily, and slammed down the phone. Sam sighed and replaced his own receiver. It wasn't even lunchtime yet, and he'd already had enough of Monday.

After a quick lunch, Sam set about his afternoon correspondence. Much of it was just trivial enquiries from clients about their cases, which he responded to briefly and to the point, although there was the odd occasion that required a more in depth response. There there was the firms circular, which was sent to everybody in the office, which Sam tended to ignore. There were no messages from any other firms about open cases, which relieved him, as Monday afternoon was not a time where he wanted to be typing responses as to why a husband wanted both family vehicles when he couldn't even operate a stick shift. He got the occasional message from Dean from time to time, though it was invariably a joke which he would be unable to repeat in polite company. Today though, the message from Dean held a different tone.

"_Hey bro,"_ the message read. _"I know you'll read this message this afternoon, and that you'll probably get this before the text that I sent you as you never check your phone -"_ this was true _"- but I had a call from Dad and he's popping in tonight. So unless you want the third degree I'd suggest maybe not coming over. I know I asked if you could help with Baby, but I guess she'll just have to wait one more night. You know the friction Dad causes between us all. I'll give you a call later if I don't hear back from you. Later, bro."_ Sam sighed as he clicked the reply button on the message, though it was half from relief. He was glad that Dean had warned him about their father's visit, as John and Sam often clashed over the most seemingly insignificant of things. John disapproved of Sam's desire to become a lawyer, and his inability to be more 'masculine' was also a sore spot. John was into the great outdoors; camping, hunting and sports – a passion Dean shared along with an affinity for motors. Sam, on the other hand, preferred books to bears, and offices to outdoors. He wouldn't necessarily call himself the black sheep of the family, but John made no secret of the fact that he preferred Dean out of the two boys. Sending a short response, Sam closed down his computer and packed his bag. He was going home early. Monday had just been too much for him this week.

Having forgotten Castiel's words from that morning about it not raining outside of office hours, leaving early meant that Sam stepped out of the office building into an almost torrential downpour. Not having an umbrella, he merely ducked his head and clutched his jacket around him as he made his way towards the station. As he passed by the coffee shop, he contemplated heading inside, but decided against it. Instead, he glanced briefly at the sign outside.

_'Today your barista is Castiel. For your drink today I recommend that you should have stayed inside, I said it was going to rain.'_

Sam smiled at the irony of it, and how the sign almost seemed to be mocking him. It was almost as if Castiel had directed the message at him personally. He glanced inside as he passed, and saw that it was quite busy, and that Castiel was being assisted by another person, though from the distance, Sam didn't recognise who it was. Hurrying along to the station to avoid being outside for any longer than was strictly necessary, he was glad that he was going t avoid the rest of the daily commuters, and instead smiled at the thought of a train ride where he was actually able to sit for the entire duration of the journey.

Stepping off the train at his local stop, Sam was gladdened to see that it had stopped raining. However, the sky didn't look overly promising, and he debated getting a cab to take him home. Eventually deciding against it, he began walking, enjoying the fresh, clear smell that had been caused by the recent rain. Sam liked the 'just rained' smell, where everything smelt wet and decidedly different to how it normally would. It was always the simplest things that gave the most pleasure for Sam, but he wouldn't have it any other way. He was walking on auto pilot along a route he'd known for years now, so he was able to appreciate all of the subtle changes made by the seasons and the weather. He pondered the reasoning behind his father's announced visit, knowing that the older man was probably after something, though for the life of him Sam couldn't think what. Although it wasn't unusual for him to spring news of a visit on Dean so suddenly, it was only when he wanted something in particular that it was such short notice. John tended to drop by and see Dean several times a year, now that Dean was semi tied down by his mechanics job in the local scrapyard, and John was pleased for him. However, those visits usually coincided with holidays such as Easter, Thanksgiving and Christmas. Although John hadn't missed visiting on Dean's birthday every year, Sam's birthday was a different story altogether. Sam still spoke to his dad on his birthday, but it was usually just through an obligatory phone call with an empty promise that John would visit soon, but was so busy at work that he was unable to get the time off. Sam knew that to be bullshit, though he never called his dad out on it, because he was always able to get time off when it concerned Dean. And anyway, it wasn't overly difficult to find substitute bar staff for a couple of days. Not that Sam was actually complaining, because to him, the less he saw his dad, the better. John had a tendency to just be able to get under Sam's skin with little to no effort with his small mannerisms, and Sam could only stand to be in his near vicinity for only a few hours at a time. Dean on the other hand, was more than happy to talk cars, sports, hunting and any other possible topic for days on end with their dad. Dean idolised John, something Sam had never done, or considered doing, in the whole of his life. Sam enjoyed studying – a fact that John seemed to not care about, and one Dean saw fit to mock, though Sam knew Dean was secretly jealous, although he'd never admit it. Dean wasn't unintelligent, he just didn't have the motivation or willpower to study for anything further than his high school diploma. Sam on the other hand had wanted to better himself, and had dreamed from an early age of going off to law school. And that was exactly what he had done. But Sam was still cautious about his dad's sudden visit, and he hoped Dean would be too.

It was late that night when Sam heard his phone ringing from inside of his suit jacket pocket. Heaving himself up off the couch, he briefly registered that it was Dean's name flashing on the screen before he answered.

"You were right, dude," Dean said as soon as Sam put the phone up to his ear. He didn't know how Dean knew where the phone was in Sam's hand, but he never started speaking before Sam was ready to listen. "I know you were thinking that Dad wanted something from me this visit, you don't even have to say _'I told you so'_, because you were right and I'm pissed at him." Sam rolled his eyes, shutting off the television that he had barely been paying any attention to previously.

"So what did he want?" Sam asked, more out of courtesy than actually wanting to know the answer. "Money?"

"He wants Baby," Dean replied angrily. "And he's not having her, finished or not." Sam let his breath hiss out through his teeth slightly, knowing just how much the half finished Impala meant to Dean.

"What's brought this around? And why can't he just get a car for himself?" Although it wasn't unlike John to ask Dean for favours, they never really revolved around Dean's obsession with the black and chrome 1967 Chevy Impala. It was normally the promise of free repairs to his own vehicle that kept John coming back to the salvage yard where Dean worked.

"His car's gone up shit creek without a paddle, and I guess he thought that Baby would be an easy way to get a set of wheels. I don't think he bargained for such a fight on his hands over a car. But he doesn't understand. She's the first car I've ever rebuilt completely from scratch. She's become more than just a car to me." Dean had been drinking, Sam could tell because his older brother never got this emotional unless he had alcohol in his system.

"Just tell him no, Dean. It's not impossible to refuse the guy. I do, quite often," Sam replied. He heard Dean snort down the phone.

"I did refuse him, and do you know what he said?" Dean asked, and then continued talking before Sam had a chance to answer. "I'll tell you what he said. He said 'don't you go turning into that other son of mine who never does a damn thing I ask of him.' And so I told him he could stick his fatherly input in my life up where the sun doesn't shine because both you and I have bent over backwards for that man time after time for no words of thanks. I'm sick of him not appreciating it." Dean's voice was rising in anger, and Sam knew exactly what Dean was going through. John's ungratefulness for his sons talents stemmed back as well to asking Sam for free legal help if he ever got himself into trouble. Sam hadn't exactly flat out refused, but he raised a point about having bills to pay an that had pissed John off. So Sam knew what Dean was going through – though he never expected Dean to have to go through it. Dean normally liked to please their father, though it appeared that this time, John had gone too far.

"So you're cutting him off," Sam questioned, taking more note in the conversation now that there was a chance that he could do something to help his older brother.

"Damn straight," Dean replied. "On the other hand, he's also cutting me off. No more donations to the worthy cause of my bank account. He's disowning me over a car." Sam laughed.

"Welcome to my world. Believe me, you get used to it."

"It just means that progress on Baby's going to grind to a stop, and god dammit Sam, I'm so close to finishing her. But I can't afford the parts, and if I take on extra hours, I'll be too tired to work on her." And so now Sam knew the main intent between Dean's call. He wasn't so different from their father as he believed himself to be.

"I'll see what I can do," Sam said gently.

"Good man, Sammy," Dean replied, hanging up and ending the call. Sam was willing to do a lot of things for his brother, but he just didn't know how he was going to be able to help on this one.

The next morning found Sam running late again, as he had been unable to sleep, due to thinking of ways to help out his brother. Dean had always been there for him when he had been working through law school, and now Sam wanted to do the same for his brother. However, it was still a question of time and finances. Although Sam worked regular office hours and would therefore be able to get down to the salvage yard in good time to work on the car, he didn't really know anything about mechanics – which is why he usually just handed his brother the required parts or tools. However, if Dean was working longer hours, that would be an impossibility. And Sam didn't have the knack for bartering that Dean did when it came to car parts because of his lack of knowledge, which meant that he would probably end up paying through the nose for parts. He was still pondering the issue as he alighted the train in the city, and trudged his usual route to work. He paused briefly outside the coffee shop to read the sign.

_'Today your barista is Lucifer. For your drink today I recommend a tall skinny latte with extra foam.'_

Frowning slightly with disappointment, he continued walking towards his office. Trust this Lucifer guy to be a let down on a morning where he needed the sage words of wisdom from an anecdote. Sam mentally chastised himself. Lucifer was probably just doing his job. It wasn't his fault if the rest of the employees of _'Coffee Heaven'_ didn't take the specials board seriously. Sam wasn't looking forwards to the day ahead, and with his mind already occupied with Dean's troubles, he knew it would be a challenge to keep focused on his cases.

The day passed in almost a bluer for Sam – a whirlwind of new cases, cases that were in the middle of negotiations and cases he had closed. He seemed to have so much open at the minute, that he was surprised he was managing to keep up with it all. And then on top of his work, he still hadn't come up with a solution for Dean. It was looking like although he wanted to help his brother out, he was just not going to be able to. There wasn't any legal implications in what John was doing in taking away funding to his adult son, so in the professional sense, Sam could do nothing. He half had the thought that it was just a car, but Dean had been working on her for so long, that she had almost become an extra member of their family – in a sense. And if Dean said he was close to finishing her, then he would be irritable until he had. Sam decided to call Dean now that he'd had time to calm down, and sober up, since last night.

"Hey bro," Dean answered cheerfully after the second ring. "What's up?"

"I was just wondering how far off finishing Baby you actually are? From the way you were talking last night you're nearly done, but am I just speculating here?" Sam could practically hear Dean's face breaking out into a shit-eating grin down the phone line.

"We've had a rich client drop his car off at the lot, paying us in advance. And he tips well too. Parts for Baby are covered," Dean explained excitedly. "Bobby's letting me work on this dudes car by myself, so I'm then able to claim all the labour, and that's some serious money from him. I can't believe my luck." Sam grinned, Bobby was good at helping Dean out of sticky situations, and the offer was also extended to Sam. They brothers had become like sons to Bobby, something they were proud to admit.

"That's fantastic news. Why the hell can't I catch a break like that? I'm up to my neck in cases at the moment, and nobody pays in advance."

"Dude, you need a hobby. Or a girlfriend," Dean chuckled.

"I resent that," Sam replied, causing Dean to laugh harder.

"Hey, or a boyfriend. I'm not here to judge." Sam rolled his eyes.

"Jerk," he muttered, attempting, but not managing to end the call before Dean replied with a muffled 'bitch'. Dean was half right though, he did need a hobby. But he was perfectly happy on being single though. Or so he thought.


	2. Chapter 2

The following Monday, Sam woke up in a good mood for a change. He didn't know what it was , but he just had a feeling that it was going to be an okay day. He'd promised Dean that he would head over that evening to finish the Impala and to accompany him on their first trip. But it wasn't that which was making Sam's mood lift. He hummed to himself whilst he showered and dressed, and was out of the door early. There was hardly a soul in his carriage on the train, and those who were there were quiet. In fact, Sam was starting to think that maybe something was actually wrong, until he remembered that it was the first week of the summer holidays, which was the reason for the lack of children on the journey. Stepping off the train in the city, he wove his way in and out of all the other businessmen and women as he headed towards the station exit. He had decided to treat himself to a coffee from 'Coffee Heaven', considering that it had been such a good morning so far. Although he could brew himself a coffee at the office, there was always something special about a professionally made drink from a fancy machine. When Sam approached the shop and read the sign, he couldn't help but let out a laugh.

_'Today your barista is: hella fucking gay and desperately single. For your drink today, I recommend you give me your number.'_

Pushing open the door, Sam stepped through, and didn't immediately recognise the serving barista. As he approached the counter, he recognised the short, golden eyed server as Gabriel. Known for being a prankster, Sam appreciated the humour behind the sign. He didn't notice however, the way Gabriel's eyes trailed up and down his body as he walked.

"What can I get you today?" Gabriel asked as Sam reached him. The small café was pretty much empty, which was surprising at this time on a Monday morning, so Sam had Gabriel's full attention.

"I would take the daily special, but as I have no idea what that is, I'll just have a regular," Sam replied with a smile. "Nice sign, by the way." Gabriel smiled back, and his eyes twinkled in mischief.

"I bet you say that to all the baristas." Gabriel's answer was flirtatious, and he winked so subtly, that if Sam hadn't been looking straight at him, he would have missed it. He was a bit flabbergasted and tongue-tied at how open Gabriel seemed to be being. It was almost a relief for Sam when Gabriel turned away to make his drink, because it gave him a minute to take stock of the situation. Sam wasn't unused to flirtatious attention, though it usually came from members of the opposite sex. During college, Sam had dabbled into the idea of being bisexual, so the fact that Gabriel was hitting on him didn't affect him. It had just been that since college, he hadn't been interested in the opposite sex much at all, and merely had concentrated on graduating Stanford and starting his law career. He couldn't believe his luck when he had gotten in internship with a prestigious law firm, and then only three years later was made a partner. His focus had always been law, and though he had had a party stage in college, he never really took his eye off the ball. Dean had encouraged him in everything, more so than their father had, and Sam owed a lot to him. In a sense, Dean had been more of a father to him than John ever had. Sam didn't realise that he had been staring straight at Gabriel while he was thinking, until the barista turned around and caught him. The beam that spread across Gabriel's features was so stunning, that Sam felt himself smiling back almost unconsciously, before lowering his gaze, the tips of his ears turning slightly red.

"One regular," Gabriel said. "That'll be $2.95. Or you know, I occasionally take payment in other means." He quirked an eyebrow and winked at Sam, whose blush spread from his ears, and began blossoming over his cheeks as well. Sam handed over $5 bill in exchange for his drink.

"Keep the change," he said, and hurried out of the café to the sound of Gabriel's chuckling. As he turned to shut the door properly, he couldn't help but catch a glimpse of the barista's slightly disappointed face, and Sam mentally chastised himself for being so rude. However, the encounter hadn't managed to bring Sam's mood down in the slightest.

"Caine and Winchester, Sam speaking." The phone in Sam's office had barely stopped ringing all morning, and it wasn't surprising that he answered his mobile in the same manner, considering it sat charging next to his desk phone. "Oh shit, sorry," he said, when Dean's laughter came ringing down the phone.

"Oh dude, that is priceless. That never gets old!" Dean said chuckling. "And I hope you never get confused and say that on your desk phone." Sam rolled his eyes.

"What do you want, Dean?" Sam asked impatiently, though he was smiling at the same time. "I'm supposed to be working."

"You say that as if you've been not working for a time." Dean's statement was partially true, Sam had been taking a break from the solid influx of calls, and had been reclining in his chair, contemplating kicking off his shoes and putting his feet up on the desk. It wasn't often that Sam gave in to that urge though, because sometimes clients had the habit of popping in, and hurrying across the office to greet them in just his socks was something that Sam ultimately wanted to avoid.

"Dean," Sam said warningly, before changing his tone. "What's up?" Dean was still chuckling slightly as Sam spoke, and Sam had to fight the urge to join in. Dean's happiness was infectious, and Sam had a sneaking suspicion that part of it was due to his beloved car.

"We had some spare time this morning and Bobby allowed me to use it on Baby!"

"No way, dude, are you serious?" Sam's shock was evident, he knew that Bobby rarely wanted Dean to work on the Impala during work hours, but if it had been quiet over the shop, the cranky old man sometimes had moments of lenience.

"How about you come out front and I'll show you exactly how serious I am?" Dean replied. Sam hung up his phone and grabbed his jacket, and was across the office and heading out before finishing saying he was taking an early lunch. He knew just how long Dean had been waiting for this moment, and he didn't want to drag it out a second longer than strictly necessary.

The Impala was everything that Dean had talked her up to be. Sam had been listening to Dean talk about her for months now, and he was glad that he was finally able to appreciate her for all of her quirks. Sam knew that Dean had knows that she was never going to be perfect, but the pure joy on Dean's face as he sat behind the wheel with his rock music playing from the stereo was a picture that Sam wanted to remember for a long time. Dean drove them to the outskirts of the city, where Sam promised to buy lunch, considering he knew that Dean had spent every spare dime he had on the car recently. But Sam didn't mind, he was glad to have some quality time with his brother away from the shop.

"She's great, Dean, she really is," Sam mused as they pulled up in the parking lot of a cheesy looking diner. "I can't believe you've actually managed to get her on the road." Dean smiled wistfully, running his hand over the dash before getting out.

"Neither can I. But she's worth every cent I paid for her," Dean replied, making sure that the doors were locked before they headed in the direction of the door. Even though the diner didn't look like much from the outside, Dean insisted that they had the 'best god-damn burgers this side of the county'. Sam was more than happy to oblige Dean, and he couldn't resist the call of a good burger every now and then. As they got themselves seated in booth near the corner – Dean's choice out of habit so that he could keep watch on all the coming and going of everyone else, Sam allowed his eyes to wander around the room as well. Because of the noticeboard outside of 'Coffee Heaven', Sam had a tendency to read the specials board in every establishment that the went to, though he was frequently disappointed. Nowhere else seemed to use them in the humours way that the café did, but Sam lived in hope that the sign trend would catch on.

It wasn't until Sam and Dean were about to leave the diner that Sam noticed there was a small drawing on the bottom of the specials board. Motioning to Dean to go ahead and that he would catch up, Sam crossed the diner quickly to have a look at the board. What he saw there surprised him, for he was pretty sure that the diner owners hadn't noticed. It was a picture of a take-out coffee with a halo. He smiled to himself and glanced around the diner once more before he walked out. As his eyes scanned the kitchen briefly, he could have sworn he saw someone who he thought looked like Castiel washing dishes in the back, but his view became blocked by a waitress serving behind the counter. Shaking his head, he thought to himself that he was imagining it due to the picture on the board, and he made his way out of the diner and across to where Dean was waiting in the driving seat of the Impala.

"Anything good happen?" Dean said, opening his eyes as Sam slid into the passenger seat. He shrugged, trying to shake the feeling that it was Castiel working there.

"No, I thought I saw someone that I knew, but it wasn't them," Sam replied. He had opted not to tell Dean about the picture on the sign, because he knew that his brother wouldn't understand. An the fact that Dean would probably call him strange for being attracted to little things on signs. But it was the little things in life that made Sam smile, because of the fact that someone else took time out of their day to make others happy. And that was something that Sam knew that Dean never thought about. Although Dean wasn't selfish, he never had had the knack of spreading feelings of happiness, unless it had something to do with cars. But the little drawing on the board in the diner made Sam smile, and that was all that mattered.

Sam spent the afternoon with his head buried in mountains of paperwork from one case or another. Although Sam enjoyed his work, all he could think about that afternoon was Dean and the car, and the coffee cup drawing at the diner. However, Sam knew that he had to focus on the job at hand, rather than stress over something that actually had little or nothing to do with him as a person. Taking a file off the top of his desk, he leant back in his chair and sighed. Opening the file to the relevant page he began to read through his notes on the case in preparation for the hearing the next day. It wasn't as though he actually needed to – the case had been going on for months and Sam knew it inside out – but more as a refresher of the demands that the opposition had placed after the last time it had gone to court. What Sam couldn't understand was why the case was dragging on so long. Sam thought that he had managed to settle the dispute the last time it had cropped up, so it was just a thorn in his side that it had cropped up again. Resisting the urge to throw the file across the room, he closed it and placed it to one side, before reaching for the next. The second case was a relatively new one on Sam; he hadn't had much previous experience with cases involving domestic abuse, but his partner in the firm had been too busy when the case first cropped up, and now Sam was the one that the client trusted to talk to. He scanned down the list of new details added, such as the more recent cases of abuse, and made a mental note to call the lady the next afternoon to schedule an appointment. They had already gained divorce papers on the grounds of assault, but Sam was also working on getting his client a restraining order from her ex-husband, due to the continuation of his psychological abuse. Although the situation wasn't rare in the world of law – far from it in fact – Sam was still working on his grasp of the whole concept of the abuse system within courts of law. In an ideal world, Sam would have like to have been able to grant his client a restraining order at the time of the divorce, however, the court had ruled that once the partners were not living under the same roof, that the abuse should peter itself out. Which, in a sense, it did. However, merely a week after the divorce had been filed, Sam's client had rung up and said that she was receiving threatening messages on her mobile, her answering machine, and in the form of e-mails; all from her ex-partner. That had led to where the case was now. However, the opposition was saying that there wasn't enough tangible proof that it was the ex in order for the restraining order to go through. Sam didn't believe the bullshit in that though, which is why he was still fighting the case for his client. All of the calls had come from the same number, which his client had identified as her ex partners second phone. Sam just had to get the court and the jury to investigate the ownership of the phone and who the number was registered to. He hoped that he would be able to do that soon, more for the benefit of his client than for the chance of getting another pay-check. Sam felt that his clients needs should come before his own, which also spilt into his relationship with Dean. He would always put his brother's needs before his own.

When Sam left the office that night, he was running a little later than usual. He'd lost track of time whilst reading through his case files. He was the last one in the office; even the cleaner had been and gone before him. He locked up carefully, ensuring that his office window was shut as he left. He had a habit of leaving it open, and normally it wasn't a problem as the cleaner was there after him. He knew how important it was to keep the office secure though, as a lot of the files in it contained confidential information. Sam didn't know who was the type of person who would break into a lawyers office to read files, and he didn't think he ever wanted to meet someone who wanted to, either. As he leant over to grab the handle of the window, he looked out, and saw that the street was practically empty, even though it wasn't overly late. Although it wasn't unusual for the street to have it's clear moments, Sam did expect to see more people than he saw there now. He slammed the window shut, before gathering up his things and heading out. Despite the fact that Dean had taken him out for a spin in the Impala earlier, Sam had a sneaking feeling that Dean would want to take him out for a proper spin, outside of the city. There was nothing that Dean loved more than taking his cars out for seemingly pointless rides across the country. But Sam could see the appeal. It was rare that the two brothers spent that much time together any more. When they were younger, there were endless road trips with their dad, where the two of them would sit in the back and play childish games, or just enjoy each others company. Sam sort of missed those days, so it was nice when he and Dean reminisced.

Sam made his way wearily off the train at his stop towards his place. It wasn't a long journey, but the afternoon spent reading up on cases had started to take its toll on Sam. His head was full of names and details, and he was quite looking forward to taking a hot shower and relaxing in front of the television with his dinner. It was the same every evening; Sam didn't really have anyone to come home to, so his routine was his own. He enjoyed the fact that he never had to make an effort when he got home; he would have resented having someone there who expected him to be anything but himself. Although Sam did occasionally miss the pleasure of company, Dean called round often enough for him not to pay much attention to it. Sam hadn't had really had someone spend the night over at his place – someone who wasn't family that is – since Stanford, not that it was a regular occurrence then either. Dean tried to tell Sam that he was missing out on things by not going to parties, or to bars, or even just out in general. Sam merely laughed him off and carried on. Dean's good natured teasing had followed him through life, and Sam was no stranger to giving back the digs as good as he got, often referring to Dean as a wingman he never asked for, and he once accused Dean of having hollow legs due to the amount of food and beer he consumed without ever seeming to gain a pound. Sam didn't think that things were normal unless he and Dean were teasing each other over something, which is exactly what started happening the minute Dean pulled up outside in the shiny black Impala.

* * *

_**Fuck I'm so sorry it took forever to get this thing out to you guys. I feel like such a terrible person. But I've had a lot happen in my life since I posted the first chapter of this so it took a back seat to everything. I'm going to attempt to get into the swing of writing a little bit on this every day, but hey. I always say things like that. **_

_**But if I have any readers from the first chapter of this, welcome back! I hopefully wont make you wait this long again. **_


	3. Chapter 3

Dean had taken Sam out to a bar. Nothing unusual in that, Sam thought to himself, as he sat on the barstool facing the rack of spirits hung up on the back of the bar. He was listening to Dean shamelessly flirt with the barmaid, and smirked into his own drink. From the moment that Dean opened his mouth, Sam knew that he was going to strike out with the girl. Her body language was screaming 'no freaking way sunshine' at him, and though Dean had seen this and had stopped openly suggesting anything, he seemed unable to stop his charm from seeping out. Dean always accepted an answer he got, he was a Southern gentleman, after all, however, once he started flirting he just couldn't stop. Sam wasn't that interested in picking up random chicks in a bar, but he always went along as Dean's wingman. Though most of the time Dean managed perfectly well on his own, there was an odd occasion where girls that Dean was hitting on would turn to Sam for confirmation about what the elder brother was saying. It was Sam's job to assure them that Dean was 100% truthful, genuine, or whatever was needed of him. However, Sam's favourite sport whilst out with Dean was to watch other dudes strike out with other random chick in the bars. To be honest, Sam just liked people watching – watching body language tells actually helped him in court sometimes, being able to see when to add just a little bit more pressure to get the desired result from a witness or the jury. He also used it to learn when to take a step back and let impact set in, and when to just leave a point completely. To Sam, human nature was a fascinating thing.

Dean was shamelessly on his way to being flat out drunk, and Sam had to rein himself in a little, knowing that Dean would definitely be in no state to be driving anywhere, and that it would be up to him to take both of them and the Impala back to either his place, or Dean's. He knew that there was no way on this Earth that Dean would want to leave his baby out overnight, especially not on the day that he had finished her. She'd been in the garage for longer than Sam could remember, and though he was happy to see her on the road, he didn't exactly want to have to tell Dean that they would have to leave her somewhere. It wasn't long before Dean noticed that Sam had stopped drinking with him.

"C'mon Sammy, this is a celebration!" Dean half slurred, raising his glass to eye level in a mock toast, before knocking back the remaining liquid. "Baby's on the road!" Sam smirked.

"I know Dean, but you're in no state to be driving her home, and I do actually have work tomorrow," Sam reasoned, knowing full well that Dean would respect his decision because it was due to a work reason, not a half assed statement about feeling ill.

"Okay Sammy, you win. Though I'm not sure I quite want to hand over her keys to you. I like the fact I'm finally able to drive her." Dean grinned sheepishly. "But I don't want to leave her out here either and like you say, I'm in no state." Sam was glad that Dean had graciously accepted defeat, and he held out his hand for the keys.

"You know me well enough not to hurt her," he said with a chuckle. "But I really do have to get back home." Dean consented, and placed his empty glass on the bar, steadying himself slightly as he stood up. Sam nodded his head in thanks to the bartender, before leading he way out of the bar.

As usual, after the two of them going out together, Sam let Dean crash on his couch. It was a compulsive decision based on the fact that there was no way that Sam was going to Let Dean go anywhere until he had slept off some of the alcohol in his system. After handing Dean some blankets, he padded up the stairs into his room to get into his own bed. However, just as he was about to get into bed, he remembered something he had left in the pocket of his jacket that he had worn to work that morning, even if it did seem an age ago. The pockets in Sams jacket were like little trips to wonderland, in the sense that you never quite knew what would appear out of them. Sam liked to feel prepared, but he himself sometimes wondered why he kept empty gum wrappers, month old receipts and his latest favourite – take out menus. Luckily, Sam knew which pocket to look in, though it did involve emptying it out completely before being able to find what he was looking for. In doing so, he found his napkin from his coffee that morning. It was customary to have a napkin come with the drink, in case of spillage or for use as an insulator if the cup was particularly hot. Sam hadn't noticed at the time, but he now saw something printed on it in neat, black letters.

_'555-0125_

_You didn't give me yours, but I hope you'll accept mine – G'_

The note made Sams thoughts stop momentarily, as he wasn't entirely sure how he should take the tone of it. It was plain that Gabriel had wanted him to contact him, but the words didn't give anything else away. Folding the napkin over on itself, Sam placed it on his night stand, underneath where his phone lay charging. Clearing his head, Sam retrieved the change he had originally been looking for from his jacket pocket, adding it to the large bottle he kept stashed next to his wardrobe. Sam looked again to the napkin on which Gabriel had written his number. Though it had been easy to miss at the time, Sam reckoned that Gabriel must have written on the napkin when he had his back turned towards Sam and the counter. What confused Sam the most was the fact that he was usually so observant, and he couldn't believe that he hadn't seen it at the time. The only trouble was, Sam didn't know what to do. He could ignore it, saying that he had thrown the napkin away without looking at it, but then Gabriel might use a different approach. Sam didn't find the idea of texting Gabriel abhorrent, though he had a funny feeling that the barista was after something more than just friendship. And then there was the fact that it was Gabriel – pure trickster, who liked to joke and flirt with any customer that Sam had seen him serve. For now, Sam decided that the best thing to do would be to sleep on it, and see what the morning brought.

It was Dean that woke Sam in the morning. Normally after he had been drinking on a week night, it was Dean who was dead to the world, and Sam would have to practically haul him out of bed and shove him out the door to get him to work on time. Dean was one of the lucky few who did not get hangovers, but he did like to sleep in. And yet, when Sam woke to a knocking on his bedroom door, and the smell of pancakes wafting through, he was pleasantly surprised that Dean was up before him.

"It's open," Sam called out, sitting up and stretching his arms above his head. "Figuratively," he added, considering the door was actually shut.

"I could do with a hand," came Dean's muffled reply. It sounded to Sam as if he were carrying something in his mouth, so Sam slipped out of bed and padded over to open the door. He was greeted by Dean, who was laden down with a tray of pancakes and coffee, and with a bottle of squeezy maple syrup clenched between his teeth. Relieving Dean of the syrup, Sam grinned at his brother.

"To what do I owe this?" Sam asked, stepping sidewards to allow Dean enter with the tray.

"I figured I owed it to you considering you always let me crash here. Just don't go into the kitchen until you get home." Sam rolled his eyes. Dean loved to cook, but he always made a terrible mess. It was worth it, however, to see the smile on Dean's face as Sam bit into the pancakes. Despite making a mess, Dean was good in the kitchen, and he actually relished the chance to cook for someone other than himself. The two brothers sat on Sam's bed as they ate their pancakes, and Sam couldn't help thinking back to when they had been younger. Their dad had always been pretty absent, which meant that Dean had to take to the kitchen in order for them to get by without starving. Though Sam had tried to help, Dean had had a natural knack for cooking. They always used to sit side by side on the couch in front of the television with their dinners, and Sam smiled. It hadn't necessarily been a conventional family meal, but that didn't mean that it didn't count.

Sam kept true to his word, and he didn't go into the kitchen before leaving his apartment, and he left Dean inside clearing up the mess he had created. He was amazed that Dean didn't have to go into work, however, since the impala was finished, he figured that Dean now wouldn't have to work every hour under the sun in order to cover the costs of living, and parts. Sam was glad to get away from his brother for a little while; he had the feeling that if Dean had offered to drive him into work that he may have just had to punch his brother. Sam did love his brother, but too much of him in one go did tend to grate on his nerves a little bit. Dean meant well, but when he was happy, he could be a little overbearing. As he walked to the station, Sam pulled the napkin with Gabriel's number on it from his pocket, and re-read over the note. He knew that Gabriel was into men; the sign outside the café was proof of this, and the fact that the barista had flirted with him also gave Sam the inclination that Gabriel was after more than just friendship with him. It had been a long time since Sam had fooled about with another man, but from what he could remember from college, he hadn't hated the idea of it. Sighing, he pulled his phone out of his other pocket and quickly saved Gabriel's number before he changed his mind or lost the napkin. He also made the decision that he would stop in the shop if Gabriel was working that morning. If he wasn't, then Sam would just have to call him.

When Sam stepped off the train at his usual stop, he was beginning to lose his nerve. Sure, Gabriel had given him his number, but did that mean that he wanted Sam to call him the same day? Sam was now wondering whether he had missed his chance with the other man now that he had slept on it. But then again, Gabriel had to know that there was a chance that Sam could have thrown the napkin without reading it, and therefore wouldn't have been able to call. Or maybe by not calling he might have crushed Gabriel's feelings and the other man wouldn't be interested in seeing him after this. Or even Gabriel had given the napkin to him by mistake and it was meant for another customer. Shaking his head, he started to walk to the exit of the station, his hands only trembling slightly in the pockets of his jacket. He couldn't believe the sheer amount of situations going through his head, it was almost as if he had become a teenager again. He wasn't even sure if he liked Gabriel, or just the idea that Gabriel liked him. Maybe he should just send a text instead. In his head, Sam cursed Dean. If Dean hadn't invited him out last night he would have seen the number at a more reasonable hour and then he could have called Gabriel then. Or texted him. Texting him seemed like a very good idea. That way he wouldn't even have to drop by the café to see if he was working. He could take a slightly different way into the office on the off chance that if Gabriel was working, he wouldn't see Sam and think he was avoiding him before he had a chance to send the message. Yeah, that would work. Sam's thoughts were racing at such a speed that he didn't even realise that he had stepped into the road, until someone grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him back to safety just before a bus rounded the corner. Sam turned to thank the person who had pulled him back to safety, and his eyes were met with glittering gold. He let out a sigh.

"Thanks, Gabriel."

* * *

_**Oh my God, I am so sorry about the gap between my last chapter and this one, I have been so busy in the real world that I literally haven't had time to write anything, let alone this. I'd been stuck at the pancake scene for about three weeks as well, I just couldn't find a way to move on from that point but I think I'm there. **_

_**I'm also currently working on some AU one shots, and I'm going to be posting them in drabble format, if there's anything you especially want to see from me just let me know. ALSO, I am (attempting to) work on a novel. Like, a publishable novel. So far, I have written 500 or so words of dross, so it's not going well, but I have characters and a plan and a plot and an end point and everything. Which is more than can be said for this story currently. **_

_**Once again, I apologise for the delay, and whilst I am on a bit of a roll with this story I will try and write the next 1000 or so words for the next chapter but it is nearly midnight here and I have work in the morning so what I'm actually telling you is complete and utter trash, and I probably won't update this for another six months. **_


	4. Chapter 4

"Penny for your thoughts?" Gabriel asked, his eyebrows furrowed. He kept his hand on Sam's arm, stopping the taller man from moving away from him. Sam stared at Gabriel incredulously. His thoughts had been scattered the moment he had turned and looked into Gabriel's eyes. He couldn't believe that the man he had just been thinking about had appeared out of nowhere and saved him from stepping out into traffic. It was like Gabriel had turned as angelic as his name. And Sam couldn't help but feel at a loss at how expectantly Gabriel was watching him, waiting for an answer. He shook his head slightly, deciding it was better to lie than to tell Gabriel to his face that he couldn't stop thinking of him.

"I was caught up in details of a case," Sam could hear himself saying. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. Thank you for pulling me back." Gabriel's eyebrows tugged together as he frowned.

"That seems unlike you, Sam," Gabriel said quietly. Sam raised his eyebrows speculatively. "You normally seem so in control of yourself when you come in for coffee. You don't strike me as the sort of person to be absent minded enough to cause danger to yourself." Sam hadn't realised how perceptive Gabriel was, and considered telling him what was really on his mind. The only problem with that was then Sam would have to admit out loud his possible attraction and definite confusion to the other man. Sam opened and closed his mouth as if to say something, but hastily changed his mind.

"I didn't sleep that well," Sam mumbled. "I get a bit haphazard when I am tired." Gabriel's frown deepened in worry, and Sam couldn't keep it to himself any longer. "And I found the note you left on my napkin." Gabriel let go of Sam's arm and stepped back.

"Oh, yeah, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or anything.." he trailed off. "I meant it as a joke." Sam could feel the disappointment radiating off Gabriel and he started to cave at the look on the shorter man's face. Sam also didn't believe for one second that Gabriel had meant it in humour, as he had encountered the barista several times over the last few months while he was frequenting the café. Gabriel never seemed to do anything unless it was of purpose to him, so giving Sam his number seemed a little counter productive if it was meant as a joke.

"I wasn't uncomfortable," Sam said, holding up his hand so that Gabriel didn't cut him off and break his nerve. "I didn't find it until late last night, and I was shocked. It was unexpected, but then I remembered your sign, and how we were interacting in the café and I knew that it was slightly more than a coincidence." Sam regarded Gabriel's expression carefully. However, Gabriel's featured remained passive, and Sam was having a hard time working out what the barista was thinking. "And when I found it, it was after I had been at a bar with my brother Dean celebrating his new car, and though I hadn't had much to drink I didn't want to be calling or texting so late at night. So I slept on it, and I still hadn't come to a decision of what to do about it, which is also what was going through my head when you stopped me from walking in front of the bus." Gabriel still didn't say anything; his face inscrutable. Sam began to panic slightly. "Aren't you going to say anything?" Gabriel raised his eyebrows.

"I don't know what you want me to say," he replied. "With every word that has come out of your mouth, you haven't actually told me how you feel about it. Just that you weren't uncomfortable. That doesn't necessarily help me. I don't know what you thought I meant by it but.." Gabriel trailed off as they were interrupted by an angry tut of someone who wanted to cross the road which they were blocking. Sam stepped away from the kerb, gesturing Gabriel to follow him. He figured that he still had plenty of time to get to the courthouse.

"Gabriel. I haven't had someone show interest in me since college. I have been very career focused, I mean Christ, I'm the youngest partner in my firms history. I don't know how to react. I'm not standing here telling you that I don't want anything to happen between us, I'm standing here telling you I don't know what to do about it." Sam ran a hand through his hair, before checking his watch. He'd been wrong, he was probably going to be late for court. "Look, I've got to go to work, I'll call you or something, okay?" Gabriel smiled, and a small look of indecision crossed over his face before he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Sam's waist quickly, squeezing him slightly before pulling away. Sam flushed, before turning and hurrying away, but it didn't stop him from waving to Gabriel after he had crossed the road away from him.

Sam had a good day in the courts. He made progress on his cases, without it going in the favour of the opposition, which was good for him. Meeting Gabriel that morning had scrambled his thoughts, and he thought that things might go down slightly differently behind the closed doors of the courtrooms, but he had been pleasantly surprised. But in the back of his mind, he had still been thinking about what he was going to say to Gabriel when he called. As court was emptying, Sam was cordial and polite to those who approached him, but his heart just wasn't in it. He was still remembering the feeling of Gabriel's arms around him, and a small smile tugged at his lips. It had been a long time since anybody who wasn't Dean had shown him affection. Sam thought back to his graduation, and the fact that his dad hadn't bothered to show. Dean was there, even though it had meant he had to travel across the country for it. But he had been there. Leaving the courtroom, Sam pulled his phone out of his pocket, and hovered his thumb over the contacts button. He needed to speak to his brother, but he didn't know whether he should tell the whole truth, or to sugar coat some of the facts. Sam wasn't sure just how accepting Dean would be. Despite his jokes, he was still his father's son, and Sam didn't think his brother would fully understand his conflicting feelings towards Gabriel. However, he had also promised Gabriel he would call, and though the barista would not know what time court let out, he also didn't want to keep the other man on tenterhooks any longer than he had already. Sam called his brother.

"Sammy?" Sam cringed. He hated the endearment that his brother so often used when he called. He knew that Dean meant it in affection, but it made Sam feel like he was a kid again.

"Really, Dean?" he questioned, and he could hear the grin on his brothers face down the phone line. "You resort to childish nicknames at a time like this?"

"A time like what?" Dean questioned, and Sam had to remember that Dean knew nothing about what he had been thinking about all day. It wasn't fair to snap at his brother like that.

"Don't worry, Dean, I've had a strange day," Sam muttered. "I gotta ask your advice, though." Sam scratched the back of his neck while he waited for Dean to reply.

"What's up, Sammy?" Dean responded with a chuckle. "You never normally call on court days." Sam rolled his eyebrows at the nickname. Dean did have a point though. Sam was usually too wired from his cases to see Dean on court days, but it wasn't like normal court days. Sam still had the thought of Gabriel in his head, and he needed to talk to someone about it before it drove him mad, or into the path of another bus.

"I'm not entirely sure where to start," Sam began. "Do you remember the other week when you said I needed a hobby, or a girlfriend?" There was a slight pause before Dean responded.

"I think I also included boyfriend in that list," Dean chuckled. "What of it? You never take anything I say seriously." Sam remained quiet, both because he was too scared to say anything, and also because he wanted to see if Dean could come to the conclusion himself without him having to incriminate himself. "Dude, you're gonna need to say something because I'm thinking that you're trying to tell me something without actually having to tell me. Am I right?" Sam sighed.

"You're partly there. I think. I just want your opinion, I know that you and Dad are quite similar in your mindsets but.."

"Were similar, Sam. We used to have similar mindsets until he tried to take Baby from underneath my nose. I became more liberal that day." Sam rolled his eyes. Dean always was one for showboating. "Are you trying to tell me that you have a new girlfriend or boyfriend? Because you're being a bit dramatic to try and tell me that you've started a stamp collection."

"If you were here in front of me, you do realise I'd have to punch you for that, right?" Sam muttered through slightly clenched teeth. Dean wasn't making this any easier for him, though he didn't really know what he had expected when he had phoned his brother in the first place. "I don't have a girlfriend."

"So it's a boyfriend?" Dean cut in before Sam had a chance to finish talking.

"I don't have a boyfriend either. I just wanted some advice, because it's been a long time since I have paid any attention to someone taking notice of me and I'm a little bit at a loss of what to do."

"Do you like them?" Dean asked, and Sam noted that Dean hadn't gendered the conversation. It pleased Sam to see that his brother might understand, if even a little.

"I'm not sure. Before last night I wasn't even entertaining the idea of finding someone, I am happy with my work, and I enjoy my routines. I was fine. And then I found a napkin with a number on in my pocket, and at first I thought that it had been given to me by mistake, and then I thought I should sleep on it, and I was going to text them or call them this morning and while this was all running through my head, I almost got run over by a bus, but then I was pulled back at the last minute. He saved me." Sam caught his breath, not realising the slip of his tongue.

"And how do you feel about that?" Dean asked tactfully.

"Feel about what? The fact that they saved me from stepping in front of a bus, or the fact that they gave me their number, or the fact that someone would take interest in me?" Sam was starting to get defensive, which was not the tact that he had originally wanted to take with his brother. "I'm sorry, Dean. It's been a stressful day, and I've had the image of him – them – sat on my shoulder all day throughout court and I just needed someone to tell me what I should do." Dean was quiet for a minute before replying.

"The only person who can help you is you," Dean said tactfully. "I think you're just calling me so that you can avoid your problems a little longer, but obviously that is your call. And anyway, it's just a call, or a text. By the sounds of what you have told me, you see him pretty regularly. You can't just ignore him, it'll get weird. Whatever your choice, Sammy, I'm here for you. Just remember that. I'm not the man you thought I would grow into. I never have been, not really." Sam smiled.

"Thanks Dean, this has helped more than you know."

"Just call your damn man, Sam." Dean's response was sharp, and Sam couldn't help but chuckle.

"You're getting a kick out of this, you jerk!" Dean's laughter resonated from the speaker in Sam's phone.

"Bitch," he replied, before the line went dead in Sam's ear. Taking the phone away from he ear, Sam scrolled through his contacts once more. Pressing the call button, he crossed the fingers of his spare hand. The line rang three times before Sam heard the smooth voice down the line.

"Hello, Gabriel speaking."

"Hi Gabriel, it's Sam."

* * *

_**I think I've done pretty well, maybe only one (or two) month wait on this chapter. Which is unlike me with this story. But still. I think only one (or two) chapters left to go, considering this was only going to be a one or two shot I think I got a little carried away. Anyway. **_

_**I've also been working on at least three other fics alongside this, only one of which is anywhere near to posting, but I really wanna concentrate on this as tonight alone I have written at least half of this chapter, so while I'm on a roll I'm going to smash out at least the ensuing conversation. **_


End file.
